Ezekiel Chapter 10 – When Glory Leaves the Building (And It Hurts Deep)
Okay, so if you’ve been walking through the book of Ezekiel with me, then by now you’ve probably realized this ain't your average prophetic scroll. It's got visions that’ll blow your mind, language that’s thick and fiery, and a whole lot of stuff that can honestly leave you like, “Wait… what did I just read?” But right here in Ezekiel chapter 10, we hit one of the heaviest emotional points in the entire book. It’s like the spiritual lights are going dim in Jerusalem, and something massive is shifting in the heavenly realms—something heartbreaking and holy at the same time.
Let’s walk slowly through this chapter, because it’s not just a vision—it’s a tragic moment. A moment when God’s glory departs from the Temple. Like, literally. That overwhelming presence that once filled the Temple in Solomon’s time—the thick cloud, the brilliance, the holy fire—it’s now leaving. Not because it’s bored, not because it's weak or uninterested, but because the people rejected Him so long and so repeatedly, that He’s stepping back. And that oughta stop us in our tracks.
Revisiting the Vision: The Glory and the Wheels Again?
Before diving into the heartbreak, let’s look at what Ezekiel sees again in this vision. It’s like déjà vu from chapter 1, because the cherubim and those crazy wheels-within-wheels show up again here in chapter 10. But why repeat it? Well, repetition in the Bible usually ain’t for no reason. It’s emphasizing something super important—God’s mobility, His glory, His order, and His holiness.
In verse 1, Ezekiel says:
"Then I looked, and behold, in the expanse that was over the heads of the cherubim something like a sapphire stone, in appearance resembling a throne, appeared above them." (NASB)
That throne image again! And who sits on thrones? Kings do. Rulers. Authorities. That’s a straight-up reminder that even though Israel’s leaders might be corrupt, and Jerusalem's crawling with idol worship, God still sits on His throne—He hasn’t lost an ounce of authority. He’s still reigning, even if people stopped acknowledging it.
Then in verses 2-5, something symbolic and mysterious happens. A man in linen (same one from chapter 9 who marked the foreheads of the faithful remnant) is told to go in between the wheels under the cherubim, and fill his hands with coals of fire from between them. Then, throw them over the city.
🔥 Fire always means something big in Scripture. Sometimes it purifies, sometimes it judges, sometimes it does both. But here? It’s judgment. God’s about to let the fire of destruction fall on Jerusalem, and this symbolic act in the vision is a heavenly echo of what’s coming down in reality. The fire ain’t random—it’s just, even though it’s tragic.
Cherubim and the Living Creatures: They’re Back!
Now verses 6 to 17 kind of repeat a lot of what was described in chapter 1. These cherubim—which are basically these intense angelic beings who carry and reflect the glory of God—are once again described in wild detail. Like:
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Each has four faces (human, lion, eagle, ox)
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Four wings
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Hands like a human under their wings
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Moving with wheels covered in eyes
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Going in any direction without turning
Now I know that sounds straight up like something from a sci-fi movie, but remember—this is vision language. Ezekiel’s trying his best to describe heavenly beings that are way beyond human comprehension. And the key takeaway is this: God's glory is alive, mobile, and full of awareness.
The wheels being full of eyes? That’s showing that nothing escapes God’s sight. Every corner of the city, every heart motive, every secret idol—it’s all seen. And the fact that the cherubim don’t have to turn to change direction? That says God’s presence moves with purpose. Nothing is random with Him.
Also, it's worth pointing out in verse 14, the face that was once described as the “face of an ox” is now just called “the face of a cherub.” Interesting switch. Scholars debate what that means, but it might just be showing that cherubim are symbolic creatures—not just heavenly “animals,” but spiritual reflections of all of creation’s strength, wildness, intelligence, and majesty. Kinda beautiful and terrifying, all at once.
The Shift Happens: God Begins to Leave
Alright, now for the gut-punch part.
In verses 18-19, Ezekiel sees something that probably made his heart sink like a stone.
"Then the glory of the Lord departed from the threshold of the temple and stood over the cherubim. When the cherubim departed, they lifted their wings and rose up from the earth in my sight..."
Boom. There it is. The glory moves.
At first, back in chapter 9, the glory had lifted from the inner sanctuary to the threshold (or doorway) of the Temple. But now? It’s leaving the threshold altogether. It’s rising above the cherubim and preparing to go. God’s presence is moving out. He’s not abandoning in a petty way—He’s giving over a rebellious people to what they’ve chosen over and over again.
This moment right here? It’s devastating. Because the Temple wasn’t just a fancy church building for the Jews—it was the center of their world. The place where God met man, where heaven touched earth, where forgiveness was found, where prayers were answered.
And now… God’s glory is leaving.
Imagine you’re in your hometown church, and you just feel the Spirit of God lift and never come back. That weight, that grief, that haunting silence after He’s gone. That’s what’s happening here. And it’s not just symbolism. Historically, Jerusalem will be destroyed by Babylon. The Temple will be burned. The city will fall. But before that physical judgment happens, this spiritual departure already seals it.
Why Did the Glory Leave?
Now, if we stop and ask the hard question—Why? Why did God’s presence leave?—we can’t ignore what’s already been shown through Ezekiel so far.
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Idolatry in the Temple itself (remember chapter 8? Creepy crawling creatures on the walls, women weeping for false gods, leaders facing the sun instead of the true God)
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Violence in the city (chapter 9 showed that even the so-called spiritual people weren’t grieving sin anymore)
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Rejection of the prophets (Ezekiel himself is proof—they weren’t listening)
So the answer is clear: persistent sin, hardened hearts, fake religion.
God doesn’t just zap people for slipping up—He warns, He pleads, He sends prophets, He delays judgment. But at some point, if the people choose idols over His presence, He gives them what they ask for: life without Him. And let me tell you, that is a terrible, scary thing—to have the form of religion, but no glory inside. To have a temple, but no fire.
Hold Up… Is There Any Hope in This Chapter?
Now I know by now this might be feeling pretty heavy. Like, “Dang… God’s glory leaving? Fire raining down? That’s rough.” And it is. But we need to remember—even in this vision of judgment, there’s still a thread of hope if you look closely.
Let’s rewind to the man in linen in verse 2. Remember him? The one who gathers the coals from among the cherubim? He was also the same one in chapter 9 who spared the faithful remnant by marking them. That’s important. Because it shows that even as judgment falls, God remembers mercy. He doesn't lump the faithful in with the wicked. He sees the ones who grieve the evil, who cling to Him, who cry out even when no one else is.
And there's something else too. God’s glory leaves, yes—but He’s still on the mobile throne. That means He ain't gone for good. He’s moving. He’s not imprisoned to a building or a location. That’s a massive lesson for us today too. God isn’t locked into a church building, a denomination, a temple. He is with His people, wherever they are. And as we’ll see in later chapters of Ezekiel, He will return. The glory will come back. The presence will fill a new temple one day. He ain’t done writing His story.
So… What Does This Mean for Us?
Reading Ezekiel 10 in our modern time might feel distant. Like, “Okay cool, angelic beings and flaming wheels. Not exactly my Tuesday.” But pause and look deeper. This chapter forces us to ask questions that are still deeply relevant today:
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Have we gotten used to religious routines, but lost the glory?
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Are we tolerating idols in the temple of our hearts?
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Are we grieving sin, or just going along with the culture?
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Do we sense when God is present—or when He’s left?
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Are we ready to be the remnant that cries out and stays faithful no matter what?
Because here’s the real deal: We can build beautiful churches, run slick programs, preach strong sermons—but if the presence of God ain’t there, what even is the point? The most dangerous thing isn’t when a church dies from persecution—it’s when it keeps functioning with no fire, no Spirit, no glory. That’s when we gotta cry out and say, “Lord, don’t let Your glory leave us. Not now, not ever.”
Wrapping It Up (But Still Letting It Linger in Our Hearts)
So yeah… Ezekiel 10 is painful. It’s a slow-motion heartbreak as God begins to exit the place that once hosted His glory. But maybe—just maybe—it’s a wake-up call we need.
Because when the presence of God moves, we don’t wanna be stuck standing in the old place, clinging to empty rituals. We wanna be the ones moving with Him, following His throne, crying out for His mercy, holding fast to His promises.
So let’s not just read this and think “Whoa, that’s sad for Israel back then.” Nah, let’s let it shake us. Stir us. Push us to examine our hearts, our churches, our priorities.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how wild the vision, or how strange the wheels, or how fierce the judgment, our God is still holy, still just, and still full of mercy. He’s worthy of our awe, our repentance, our love, and our whole-hearted worship.
Let’s not be content with empty temples. Let’s cry out for real glory again.
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